Anyway, we got back from France the other day after four months away and the car wouldn't start. Also the windshield wiper blades needed changing. And I needed to mount a new side view mirror because mine had been sideswiped by the mirror of a car coming the other way.
None of this fazed me. How many dozens or hundreds of blades, mirrors, and batteries had I changed in my time?
I bought the new blades and then couldn't get the old ones off the car. The attachments had been re-engineered. I could not fathom it and I had to stop before I broke the goddam things.
I bought the new mirror only to find that I had to remove the door panel to expose the place where I could get it off the car and reattach the new one. Although I had removed countless door panels in the old days, I could not figure out how to remove this one and feared ruining it if I continued. The old attachment method had worked perfectly well. Why the hell they had to go change it I do not know.
I learned long ago that once a battery goes flat you can charge it, and it will surely work for a brief time, but there is no way on earth to measure its ability to hold the charge before it strands you somewhere. So I drove into a garage and said I wanted a new battery. The mechanic came out, attached to the terminals a small instrument I had never seen before or even heard of, then told me my battery was fine. I certainly did not need a new one. It has been working perfectly ever since.
My wife has been snickering at me for some days. Big mechanic, ha. Things change, she said. Accept it.
I refuse to accept it. I prefer to rail against all the new fangled gadgets and also against all the jerks who invent them. I don't accept a thing.
The alternative is to feel old.